by Betty Neels
‘Something smells delightful. Is it a secret?’
‘Watercress soup, boeuf en croûte, potatoes with mint, courgettes, new carrots, spinach purée, profiteroles with chocolate sauce, cheese and biscuits and coffee,’ recited Florina, finishing the last of the sauce.
‘It sounds good. Are you cordon bleu trained, Florina?’
‘Yes, but I think I learnt almost everything from my mother—the cordon bleu just—just put the polish on.’
She had washed her hands, and was piling profiteroles into a pyramid on a china dish. It crossed her mind that she felt completely at ease with Sir William, as though she had known him for years… She really must remember to call him Sir William. ‘Dinner will be at half-past seven unless you would like to change that, Sir William?’
He said carelessly, ‘Oh, no, why should I change it? I’ll take Pauline off your hands—we’ll go for a stroll.’
Without Pauline’s pleasant chatter and her father’s large presence, the kitchen seemed empty and quiet. Florina went to and fro, putting the finishing touches to the food. She was a little warm by now, but still very neat. Mrs Frobisher, coming into the kitchen, nodded approvingly.
‘You certainly know your work,’ she allowed. ‘Sir William is a very punctual man, so have the soup ready on the dot. I’ll carry in the food.’
The meal over and the last of the dishes back in the kitchen, Florina put the coffee tray ready to be carried in, and started on the clearing up.
The china, glass and silver Mrs Deakin would see to in the morning, but she did her saucepans and cooking utensils. It had been a strict rule at the hotel and one she intended to continue. She had just finished burnishing the last pan when Mrs Frobisher came back with the coffee tray. ‘Sir William is very satisfied with your cooking,’ she told Florina, ‘I’m to pass on his compliments. He wants to know if you can cook for a dinner party next weekend. Eight sitting down to table, and Miss Fortesque, his fiancée, will be staying for the weekend.’
‘No problem. If there is anything special Sir William wants, I’ll do my best.’
‘I’ll ask him. You’re finished? Did you put everything to keep warm in the Aga? Good. I’ll lay the table and you dish up. It’s been a busy evening, but you’ve done very well. I’ve suggested to Sir William that we get a girl from the village to come in in the evenings and help you clear up and see to the vegetables and so on. Do you know of one?’
Florina thought. ‘Yes, there is Jean Smith at Keeper’s Cottage—she’s left school, but she’s got to wait a month or two before she can start work training as a nurse. She will be glad of the money.’
‘I’ll leave you to ask her to come along and see me. Now, let’s have dinner. I’ve seen Pauline safely up to bed, and Sir William has got all he wants. Your father knows you won’t be home until later?’
‘Oh, yes. I left his supper ready for him.’
‘You’re kept busy,’ observed Mrs Frobisher. ‘Mind you, during the week it will be midday dinner and a light supper at seven o’clock. You’ll have most of the evening free. It is a pity that you can’t live in.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind working late or coming early in the morning,’ said Florina, and tried not to sound anxious.
She did not quite succeed, though, for Mrs Frobisher said quickly, ‘Oh, don’t worry about that dinner, Sir William won’t want to lose you on any account. I was only thinking that it would be much easier for you; there’s a nice little room at the top of the back stairs with its own bathroom, and nicely furnished, too. Still, I dare say your father would miss you.’
Florina, serving them with the last of the profiteroles, agreed quietly.
She faced a long-drawn-out lecture when she got home. She listened with half an ear while she washed up his supper things and put everything ready for the morning. When her father paused at last, she surprised him and herself by saying, without heat, ‘Father, the doctor said that it would be good for you to do a few things for yourself. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t clear away your meals and wash up. You could make your bed, too, and get your own tea. I’m really working hard for most of the day, and I give you almost all my money. You could even get a part-time job! Then you would have more money and I could have some money of my own.’
She waited patiently while he gobbled and snorted, and told her several times that she was a wicked and ungrateful girl.
‘Why?’ asked Florina. ‘It’s not wicked to get you to help a little, especially when the doctor says it would be good for you. And what do I have to be grateful for, Father?’
‘A roof over your head, and food and a bed!’ he shouted very angrily.
She could get those if she lived in at Wheel House… ‘I’m thinking of leaving home,’ she told him. ‘I’ll stay until you can get someone to come in and keep the house tidy and do the washing. You said a few days ago that a cousin of yours—Aunt Meg, was it? I don’t remember her very well—had been widowed. She might be glad to come and live here with you…’
‘You would leave your home? But you were born here, your mother lived here.’
‘Yes, I know, Father, but now she isn’t here any more it isn’t home, not to me.’ She added gently, ‘You’ll be happier if I’m not here, won’t you?’
Her father’s face turned alarmingly red. ‘To think that a daughter of mine should say such a thing…’
‘But it’s true, isn’t it, Father? And if Aunt Meg were here, she would be at home all day and be company for you. You wouldn’t miss my money because she would pay her share, wouldn’t she?’
He agreed in a grumbling voice. ‘And, since you are determined to leave home and leave me to shift for myself, I’ll write to her, I suppose. But don’t you think you can come sneaking back here if you’re ever out of a job.’
‘There is always work for a good cook,’ observed Florina.
Sunday was very much like Saturday, except that there was hot lunch and cold supper, which gave Florina a good deal more leisure. She left everything ready for tea and, intent on striking while the iron was hot, asked Mrs Frobisher if she had been serious when she had suggested that for her to live in would be more convenient for everyone.
‘Yes, of course I was,’ declared that lady. ‘Why do you ask?’
Florina explained, leaving out the bits about her father’s bad temper.
‘A good idea. Come and see the room.’
It was a very nice room, its windows overlooking the river running through the garden. It was well furnished, too, with a small writing desk and an easy chair with a table beside it, and a divan bed along one wall with a fitted cover. There were pictures on the walls and a window-box cascading geraniums. There was a cupboard in one wall and a small bathroom, cunningly built into the roof. A minuscule kitchen contained a sink and a minature gas cooker, capable of turning out a meal for one, as well as an electric kettle.
‘Why, it’s perfect! Whoever thought of it?’
‘Sir William. He enjoys comfort, and wants everyone around him to be comfortable, too. I believe that he will be pleased if you were to live here, Florina, but of course I’ll say nothing until you’ve decided.’
She had a good deal more leisure for the rest of the week. Sir William left early on the Monday morning, but that leisure was very much encroached on by Pauline, who attached herself to Florina at every possible moment. Though Florina, who had perforce led a somewhat solitary life, enjoyed her company; it was fun to show the child where she could find mushrooms and wild strawberries, sit by the river and watch for water voles, and feed the swans. Pauline, who had spent almost all her life in London, loved every minute of it. But, if life was pleasant while she was at the Wheel House, it was uncomfortable at home. Her father had indeed written to her aunt, and received a reply, full of enthusiasm for his scheme and suggesting that she would be ready to join him in a couple of weeks’ time, news which apparently gave him no pleasure at all. Not that he wanted Florina to change her plans. Indeed, she had told him Mrs F
robisher knew that she was willing to live in, providing Sir William agreed. Cutting sandwiches for Pauline’s tea, she had never felt so happy.
It had to be too good to last. On Friday morning she began her preparations for the weekend. She and Mrs Frobisher had decided on a menu, and the housekeeper had gone to Wilton and bought everything for Florina on her list, so it had only remained for her to assemble them ready for Saturday evening. Mrs Frobisher, who seemed to like her, in a guarded manner, had taken her upstairs in the afternoon to show her the guest room.
‘Miss Fortesque is used to town ways,’ she explained. ‘She’ll expect her breakfast in bed…’ She sniffed. ‘She’ll not want me here when they’re married.’
‘But were you not Pauline’s Nanny?’
‘And Sir William’s before her.’ Miss Fortesque forgotten momentarily, Mrs Frobisher threw open the two doors close to the room they were viewing. ‘Guest rooms,’ she pointed out. ‘Pauline’s room is on the other side of the landing, as is Sir William’s. You’ve noticed that there are more rooms above the kitchen. The housekeeper’s—I sleep on this landing at present because otherwise Pauline would be alone… There is another bathroom and a third bedroom. I dare say Miss Fortesque will want someone else to live in. It’s a large house and I doubt if she knows what a duster looks like.’
Certainly, dusters were the last things one would think of at the sight of Miss Fortesque, thought Florina, watching from the kitchen window as she stepped from Sir William’s car on Saturday morning. She was the picture of elegance, the sort of elegance never seen in the village: a sleeveless dress of what Florina was sure was pure silk in palest blue, Italian sandals and enormous hoop earrings matching the gold bracelets on her arms. Florina sighed without knowing it, twitched her apron so that it covered her small person correctly, and went back to the preparation of crêpes de volaille Florentine. She was making the cheese sauce when Sir William wandered into the kitchen.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Every time I see you, you’re slaving over a hot stove.’
She couldn’t prevent her delight at seeing him showing on her face, although she didn’t know that. ‘I’m the cook, sir,’ she reminded him.
‘Yes—I seem to have difficulty in remembering that.’ He smiled at her and called over his shoulder, ‘Wanda, come and meet Florina.’
Miss Fortesque strolled in and linked an arm in his. ‘Oh, hello. You’re the cook?’
The air positively hummed with their mutual dislike, instantly recognized, even if silent. Sir William watched them from half-shut lids.
‘Florina is our treasure—she cooks like a dream, and Pauline considers her to be her best friend.’
Wanda opened large blue eyes. ‘Oh, the poor child, has she no friends of her own sort?’ She made a small gesture. ‘Is it wise to let her live here, William? At a good boarding-school she would make friends with all the right children.’
‘Who are the right children?’ he asked carelessly. ‘Don’t be a snob, Wanda. Pauline is happy; she’ll be going to day school in Wilton in September, and there’s plenty to occupy her here meantime.’ He glanced at Florina. ‘Does she bother you, Florina?’
‘Not in the least, Sir William. She is learning to cook and she spends a great deal of time gardening. She and Mrs Frobisher go for long walks.’
Miss Fortesque turned on her heel. ‘Oh, well, if you’re quite content to leave her with the servants…’ She smiled bewitchingly, ‘I shall alter all that, of course. When are the others arriving?’
Florina was left to seethe over the Aga. The horrible girl was quite unsuitable to be Sir William’s wife, and she would be a disastrous stepmother. If Sir William was as easy-going as he appeared to be, then Pauline would find herself at a boarding-school, and she and Nanny would be out of jobs. Not too bad for Nanny, for she had already officially retired, but it would mean finding work for herself, and away from home, too.
Despite her rage, she served up a lunch which was perfection itself, and shared a quick meal with Nanny. When Sir William, with his fiancée and Pauline, had driven off for a brief tour of the surrounding country, Florina arranged the tea tray and then got down to preparing dinner. The house was quiet: Mrs Frobisher had gone to put her feet up before tea, Mrs Deakin was doing the last of the washing up and Florina concentrated on her cooking. By the time she heard the car stop by the house, she was satisfied that there was nothing more to do for an hour or so.
Two other cars arrived then, and Mrs Frobisher, much refreshed by the nap, carried in the tea tray and the assortment of cakes and sandwiches Florina had got ready, before she came back to share a pot of tea with Florina.
The kitchen was warm; she opened the windows wide and sat down gratefully, listening to Mrs Frobisher describing Sir William’s guests. Rather nice, she was told, and had known him for years—doctors and their wives, rather older than he was.
‘And, of course, Miss Fortesque,’ added Nanny, and she sounded as though she had inadvertently sucked on a lemon. ‘A well preserved woman, one might say, but of course she spends a great deal of time and money upon herself.’
Obviously Nanny didn’t approve of Sir William’s Wanda, but Florina didn’t dare to say so; she murmured vaguely and her companion went on, ‘Had her claws into him for months. I’m surprised at him—she’ll be a bad wife for him and a worse stepmother for my little Pauline.’ She passed her cup for more tea. ‘He’s so busy with all those sick children, he only sees her when she’s dressed up and all charm and prettiness. Of course, that’s very nice for the gentlemen when they’ve had a hard day’s work, but when all’s said and done they want a wife as well, someone who’ll sit on the opposite side of the fireplace and knit while he reads the papers, listen when he wants to talk, and love his children.’ Nanny snorted. ‘All she likes to do is dance and play bridge.’
‘Perhaps she’ll change,’ suggested Florina gently, not quite sure if she should voice an opinion. Nanny was obviously labouring under strong feelings, and possibly she would regret her outburst later on.
‘You’re a good girl,’ said Nanny, ‘I’ve wanted to say all that to someone for weeks, and you’re the only person I’ve felt I could talk to.’
To Florina’s distress, Mrs Frobisher’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I had him as a baby,’ she said.
‘They’re not married yet,’ ventured Florina. She added, very thoughtfully, ‘It just needs someone to give fate a push and change things…’
Mrs Frobisher blew her nose, an awesome sound. ‘You’re a sensible girl as well as a good one, Florina.’
Florina dished up a splendid dinner: artichoke hearts with a sharp dressing of her own invention, lobster cardinal, medallions of beef with a wine sauce and truffles, and tiny pancakes filled with strawberries and smothered in thick cream.
When the coffee tray had gone in, she and Nanny sat down to eat what was left, before Nanny went away to see Pauline into bed. Mrs Deakin had come back to help with the clearing up, but all the same the evening was far gone, and Sir William seeing his guests on their way, by the time they were finished in the kitchen. Florina set everything ready for the morning, changed into her dress and, with Mrs Deakin for company, locked the kitchen door after her and started for home.
They were at the gate when Sir William loomed out from the shrubs alongside the short drive. ‘A delightful meal, Florina! My compliments, and thank you, and Mrs Deakin, for working late.’
Mrs Deakin muttered happily; she was being paid overtime, and generously, for any work she did over and above her normal hours. Florina said quietly, ‘Thank you, Sir William. Goodnight.’
He would go into his lovely house presently, she supposed, and Wanda would be waiting for him. Florina had caught a glimpse of her during the evening—a vision in scarlet chiffon. Enough to turn any man’s head, even that of the placid, good-natured Sir William.
She was making a salad the next day when Miss Fortesque, in a startling blue jersey dress and a great many gold bangles, strolled
into the kitchen.
‘Hello, Cook, busy among your saucepans again? It’s really surprising that even in the depths of the country it’s possible to find someone who can turn out a decent meal.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After town standards, you know, one hardly expects it.’
Florina shredded lettuce with hands which shook very slightly with temper, and said nothing.
‘That sauce last night,’ continued her visitor, ‘I fancied that there was a touch too much garlic in it. Sir William didn’t complain—he’s really too easy-going…’
‘When Sir William complains to me, Miss Fortesque, I shall listen to him,’ said Florina very evenly.
Wanda’s eyes opened wide. ‘Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Cook! I’ll have you dismissed…’ She advanced, rather unwisely, too close to Florina, who had started to whip up a dressing for the salad. She increased her beating with a vigour which sent oily drops in all directions. The blue dress would never be the same again; a shower of little blobs had made a graceful pattern down its front.
Wanda’s breath was a hiss of fury. ‘You clumsy fool—look what you’ve done! It’s ruined—I’ll have to have a new dress, and I’ll see that it’s stopped out of your wages! I’ll…’
Sir William’s voice, very placid, cut her short. ‘My dear Wanda, if you hadn’t been standing so close, it wouldn’t have happened. You can’t blame Florina, you’ve only yourself to thank. Surely you know that cooks must be left in peace in their kitchens when they are cooking?’
Wanda shot him a furious glance. She said pettishly, ‘I’ll have to go and change. I hope you’ll give the girl a good telling-off.’
She flounced out of the kitchen and Florina began to slice tomatoes very thinly. Sir William spoke from the door. ‘I found the sauce exactly right,’ he said gently, and wandered away.
He took his fiancée back to town that evening, leaving behind a rather unhappy Pauline. He sought out Florina before he left, to tell her that for the next few weeks, while the child was on holiday, he would come down each weekend on Friday afternoons, and drive back early on Monday morning.